


Meant to Be Broken

by Toshi_Nama



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 10:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20704628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toshi_Nama/pseuds/Toshi_Nama
Summary: Not all things are made to last...whether that be relationships or rules.  Which will give first, in a Circle where only one believes he can belong?





	Meant to Be Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vandal_aria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vandal_aria/gifts).

He was twelve when he came to Kinloch. Karl was fourteen. Not that  _ he  _ cared.

The first year was devoted to two things; coming to terms with a ‘gift’ that led to beatings, and plotting to leave where that ‘gift’ had forced him to. His magic wasn’t any more interested in being controlled than  _ he  _ was, but the Templars everywhere were incentive even to him...as was the pretty Junior Enchanter who was responsible for Orientation and Fundamentals. He could make her laugh, just like his big sister.

Making people laugh was good. It was useful, and meant she was willing to answer extra questions after lessons.

That was how he found out about the weekly trash haul. If his da was going to call him ‘trash’ for becoming a mage, then...then...he’d  _ become  _ trash! It was easy enough to get into a barrel, and magic helped him keep the lid shut. His elbows got all scraped, and it  _ almost  _ worked. It would have if he hadn’t asked for directions at the inn.

The Templars were off-duty, but not off-duty enough to ignore scraped elbows and an apprentice robe.

**

When he was fourteen, he was already trouble – but the Senior Enchanters smiled or sighed when they said it. Karl was sixteen. He  _ wasn’t  _ interested. He wasn’t. No, he was still dreaming of Junior Enchanter Therese, even if he knew the Junior Enchanters slept somewhere else. It was a guilty, sticky sort of dreaming, especially since her hair was the exact color of his cousin’s.

“Hey.”

The voice made him tense, flushed.

“Don’t worry, it happens to all of us.” Long-fingered hands helped him strip the sheets. “There’s water in the basin.”

“I know.” There wasn’t any charm in his voice now, but what could another apprentice do except mock him?

“I’m Karl.”

Why wouldn’t the older boy just leave him alone? _ _ “I don’t care.”

‘Karl’ sighed. “I can tell. Here. I’ll take care of these; go ahead and use my bed. It’s almost dawn, and I’m scheduled to help make breakfast today.” He paused a beat. “Anything you wanted? I can see what we have.”

Why would he be nice? “Chocolate and strawberry tarts.” He named something impossible, that he’d only seen once at the fancy baker’s. If he didn’t tell anyone anything, they couldn’t hurt him. He was already trying to figure out his next way home. Mother needed him, and little Evans would be ready to start helping with milking, and he wasn’t there. _ _ Two years had softened his memories of his father enough that he could forget the anger and just remember the quiet pride he’d had. Maybe now, now that his magic was controlled, Da would be proud again.

He  _ did  _ take up Karl on his offer, and managed to get back to sleep.

Breakfast was strawberry turnovers with honey almonds, as well as the porridge and creamy milk they had every day.

**

When he was fifteen, Karl was seventeen – not that it mattered. Three attempts to escape had resulted in skinned elbows (the first), a week helping the deepstalkers calm down again (the second), and an almost-beating from a handful of apprentices angry they’d lost swimming lessons (the third). Julie and Karl were the ones who stepped in; the other apprentices didn’t quite know how to handle them.

Julie, he’d expected; she was sweet, had silky black hair in places other than just her head, and was more than willing to join him in fumbling explorations in the darker corners of the library.

“Why?”

Karl turned around at the accusation pretending to be a question. “Why what?”

“You stopped them. Why?”

He smiled, the faint stubble of an almost-beard showing that two years’ difference against his jaw. “Because you had guts.”

“And?”

Karl flushed a little and studied his nails. “I like your smile.”

Anders blinked. “My  _ what?  _ I don’t smile.” Well, not unless it was to get something.

The older boy shrugged. “Well.”

He was about to walk away, but – “Wait.” Karl stopped. He’d never...well, he knew  _ some  _ boys did, but… surely it wasn’t that different. “Help me.”

“What?”

He knew better than to trust someone else. No one understood him here, not really. On the other hand, Karl had helped him before without any reason. He threw out the offer, his words coming faster. “You can come with. Mother always liked the friends I brought home, and…”

“No, Anders. Anders, it’s a bad idea.”

It was a  _ great  _ idea. They’d never suspect Karl, not the way they watched him. “Then let’s sneak up to the Senior Enchanters’ lounge and watch the stars on the balcony?”

The flush deepened a little. Apparently, flirting was the same whether it was men or women - he’d not bothered before.

“I...that sounds fun,” he admitted. Anders tried a smile just to see how much further he could push things, but then one of the Templars came by – and one of the ones who kept his helmet on, not one of the nice ones. He scurried off to wherever he was supposed to be instead of with ‘the troublesome apprentice.’

**

When he was sixteen, Karl was eighteen. Stolen moments had turned into something more than fumbles...and he’d had a chance to learn what  _ other  _ uses magic had. It distracted him from the Templars.

Then Karl vanished.

_ Harrowing. His Harrowing… _

He didn’t want to wait – or think about why he didn’t want to. Instead, he sweet-talked (more like politely argued with) Ser Leslie to let him go with her. Apprentices weren’t  _ technically  _ allowed outside Kinloch, especially apprentices who’d tried to run away so many times, but ‘there might be someone hurt, and I just…’

A smile, big eyes, and just a hint of vulnerability – it worked every time.

Better yet, a couple stolen kisses and a few sparks under the armor, and she was still smiling in her sleep when he slipped out of the Princess, swapped his clothes for some hanging on a line, and took off.  _ Fourth time’s the charm. _

The fourth time  _ wasn’t  _ the charm, and this time the Knight-Commander raged when he was hauled back into the First Enchanter’s office.

“Again!”

Irving tossed out a placating hand. “His healing is helpful, Greagoir, you know that.”   


“Four times, Irving! You know the rules; you helped set them yourself.”

This was bad. On the other hand, he might be tall for his age but he hadn’t filled out. Looking a little thin was great for sympathy (and you fit better in someone else’s bed). Anders let a tear fall. “My mother…”

“Yes,” the First Enchanter sighed. “But your home is here. You have family here – brothers and sisters, if not parents.” Irving glanced over at the Knight-Commander. “I won’t agree, Greagoir. The boy has great potential as a healer, and you know how valuable that is. It had been a year and a half. Give him time.”

The armored man threw up his hands and walked out of the office.

Saved again _ . _

“This is because of Karl, isn’t it?”

Anders blinked.

“It’s alright, boy,” Irving chuckled. “Once I was where you are. Newly-Harrowed mages – yes, of course he passed – aren’t supposed to have contact with apprentices for their first year, but I’d rather not have this conversation again. If you two can still...study together, will that help?”

Anything would help. His mind spun. Karl was nice  _ and  _ he’d have a friend who was a mage, a trusted mage. “Yes, First Enchanter.”

He tried not to think about that ‘year and a half’ bit...almost two years. No, he’d get out somehow. Karl could help him, he knew it. They could help each other. Anders tried to convince himself that was all it was. Nothing else. Really.

**

He was seventeen, and Karl was nineteen. The only reason he  _ hadn’t  _ had his Harrowing was age. He knew it. “What if they don’t know your age?”

Karl chuckled as they lounged in his tiny room. “They guess, silly. Besides, you know you’ll pass.”

“If they ever let me.”

“They have to. Just another year, and we won’t have to worry about getting caught.”

Ah, there it was. ‘Study’ had never really been that – but Karl’s voice was relaxing in a way all the ladies weren’t, even if he didn’t stop finding dark corners with them. “Another  _ year,  _ though.” He leaned over and kissed his just-older partner, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t know about the beard.”

“You didn’t complain when it was all itchy.”

He sighed and flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn’t look any different here. “Another year. _ _ I’m going to go crazy.”

“We’re already crazy – you know we shouldn’t be doing this. Anders, another year and you’ll be Harrowed. You can always ask for a transfer then.” Karl’s voice caught. “Though I hope you don’t.”

He dodged. “Like they’d let their healer go.”

“The army, then. Or out with just one Templar, if there’s another outbreak of that fever. You’ve got skills, Anders. All I have is stubbornness and a liking for fire.”

The Fade sparkled on his fingers as he warmed them just enough to make Karl’s breath catch again. He  _ did  _ like the man, more than he’d admit. “Oh, you like fire, alright…”

**

He was nineteen and Karl was twenty-one when everything changed.

“You’ll be able to write, Anders.”

He shook his head frantically. “You don’t understand! It’s  _ Kirkwall!  _ They can’t send you there – didn’t the Knight-Commander kill off the First Enchanter?”

Karl shook his own head. “No, nothing like that. The Viscount and the Knight-Commander got into a mess, and the Viscount died when he tried to regulate them. Nothing to do with the Circle.”

“Even I’ve heard of there. Don’t they have a lot of failed Harrowings?”

“So? I’m Harrowed, silly.”

Why didn’t he understand? Change was one thing, but this… “It’s because of me, isn’t it.”

_“What?” _For one of the first times, Anders heard real surprise in his...lover’s...voice. Oh, he’d had sex with plenty of people – mostly women – but it was Karl he kept coming back to. “Where do you get that idea? Anders, not everything’s about you. They needed an expert in spirits, and that’s something I’ve gotten rather good at, even if it wasn’t in the approved way. You may have had a little to do with that,” Karl tried to joke, “but only in a good way. Look – it’s not forever, and you’ve been able to leave the Circle a few times. You’ll be fine.” Anders snorted. “You just want to get away from me.”

It was enough to make Karl leave his bags and come over to kiss him. “Never,” he murmured. “I’ve broken so many rules for you even though I’m not the golden healer. I’m surprised we got away with everything for this long.”

“You’re still  _ leaving.”  _ Even he wasn’t sure what he wanted Karl to do. It wasn’t like transfers could be argued away – though the creeping knowledge that transfers needed the mage’s agreement stung. “You asked for this,” he accused. “You don’t love me anymore.”

Karl turned away. He felt a little bad that the first time he’d said the forbidden word was as a weapon, but he’d make it better just as soon as Karl realized he couldn’t do this. “Of course I do, Anders. But I also want to be useful. Kinloch doesn’t need me.”

“I do!”

“We can write letters. I promise. Every month.”

**

Anders was still nineteen when letters weren’t enough.

Attempt number five managed to work for three glorious weeks; unfortunately, the Templars had his phylactery. There was always a way to find him and bring him back.

It didn’t help that this time he didn’t know where he wanted to run  _ to.  _ He’d never gotten this far since he’d given up on his family. ‘Away’ wasn’t enough to make a plan for, and so those three weeks ended with him trying to eat mystery berries, resulting in mystery dysentery that at least he could heal himself.

**

He was twenty-two and Karl was still sending letters. Every year on the anniversary of them taking Karl away, he tried to escape. Well, close to the anniversary; the third time, they were watching, and that one didn’t count because he didn’t even make it to the shore.

Anders clenched the letters that showed Karl managing, even finding respect.  _ He  _ was happy. No, he still wanted Anders to join him. Join him? In Kirkwall? Anders scoffed. Only if he could find a way to convince Karl to leave with him.

Maybe...his eyes lit up. Yes.  _ Yes,  _ that might work. He’d either escape and find his way there, or he’d wear out Irving’s patience and get  _ sent  _ there. The Templars in Kirkwall wouldn’t know him or his relationship with the steady-seeming Karl. Anders knew better – there was rebellion in  _ anyone,  _ so long as you could fan the flames.

Then he wouldn’t be alone.

He sat down. This time, instead of fluff, barely-veiled dirty promises, and complaints, he considered each word. It would be harder to convince Karl using just words, but he’d do it.

**

He was twenty-six, and Karl was twenty-eight. He was  _ done  _ waiting and watching...especially when all he had to watch was one cat and two abominations. The abominations came later; but it was enough. Everything was a mess. No one would notice, not when it was an abomination who managed to rip off the bars of his cell. “Good Mr. Wiggums,” he said to the remnants he’d unfortunately splattered all around. He’d get out. He’d find Karl – Karl was what he held onto, damn them for finding the letters he’d saved, but it didn’t matter. What were letters compared to words, voices, and touch?

It  _ wasn’t  _ love. He knew better. But it was something, an easier way to stay free. Two was better than one, right? Right.

**

He was still twenty-six when he left Vigil’s Keep behind. “They won’t understand.”

_ They never understood.  _

Would Karl? It didn’t matter. Justice was a friend that would never leave him. “Let’s go.”

It was easy to find a passage for two, especially since he only had to pay for one.

“And no questions.”

The captain palmed his gold and snorted. “I never ask questions. You cause problems, I throw you overboard, healer or not.”

“I don’t cause trouble.” 

The dry voice in his head – no, he wouldn’t think about what it meant – responded.  _ Freeing your friend is not trouble. It is Just. _


End file.
